On June 25th 2012, I met two little, four week old bundles of fluff. They had recently been rescued from an intensive chicken meat factory farm and were unable to walk, were covered in faeces and smelt of ammonia. They both looked up at me with their baby blue eyes, chirped and from then I fell in love. Being broiler chickens, they were bred to not live past 5-7 weeks old. The shed they came from was cleared the next week and the rest of the chickens in that shed were sent to their deaths to become a chicken nugget, a chicken burger or a roast chicken that you see on the supermarket shelf. These two little broiler chicken babies were lucky, they had a chance to learn how to walk, learn how to live and learn to be chickens. Broiler chickens are not bred to live very long. They are selectively bred to grow as fast as possible in the shortest amount of time possible, this means that the lucky rescued ones never live very long lives. Due to their size they have massive health problems, their hearts often give out and they can no longer bare the weight of their bodies. Knowing this, I named these two little bundles of fluff “Summer” and “Autumn” in the hope that they would live to see and experience the seasons they were named after.
Summer and Autumn grew up in our laundry, being too small to be in the chicken coop with our other chickens, we thought it safer to get them strong and healthy before introducing them to the flock. The girls slept in the laundry in the night and had their own fenced off section outside during the day. J started saying “Hello Little Mates” everytime he would walk into the laundry and both Summer and Autumn started responding to the name “Little Mates” and would chirp when we said it! Sadly, Autumn passed away only four weeks later and Summer was left all alone. We quickly introduced her to the flock and she spent her first night in the chicken coop in a crate the night that Autumn died.
We are guilty of mollycoddling Summer, but I just wanted to keep her safe. She followed me everywhere. She would waddle after me and seek me out wherever I was. I would call “Little Mates” and the next minute there she was, chirping and waddling up to me. We were such good friends, she took comfort in me and saw me as a mother…all babies need a mother and because she never got the opportunity to meet hers, she chose me.
It took her a while to fit in with the flock and she was bullied mercilessly for a little while, but soon fitted in. She made friends with our two other broiler chickens, Maggie and Lily, and they formed their own special gang. Summer didn’t need me so much then, but she still let me pat her, hug her, give her grapes… and she still chirped and waddled over to me at the call of “Little Mates”
I always knew that I wouldn’t have my sweet Little Mates for long, such is the sad story of a broiler chicken. I watched as she became larger and larger and started to have trouble walking. I started to pick her up and carry her so she could keep up with the other chickens. I hand fed her treats because she couldn’t compete with the other girls for them. I bathed her in the heat of the day…and the night. I tried everything to prolong her life, but ultimately I knew she didn’t have long. The last time I saw her, I gave her a cuddle, told her I loved her and said goodbye. I knew I’d never see her again. She died at lunchtime on January 3, 2013, most likely from a heart attack or some heart related problem. She made it to Summer, but didn’t make it through Summer.
Although heartbroken at losing my sweet little lady, I’ll always be grateful that I knew her. I’ll always be grateful that she got to learn how to live in the real world as a real chicken and I’ll always be grateful that she is buried here with us instead of being someone’s dinner.
Goodbye my Little Mates. Always in my heart.
Please don’t use my images without permission. All images are Copyright Tamara Kenneally